


Fever Bright

by irridescentsong, jcrowquill



Series: Kinship [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Masturbation, implied cannibalism (surprise surprise), partially resolved sexual tension, slightly dubious consent (impaired decision making)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irridescentsong/pseuds/irridescentsong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcrowquill/pseuds/jcrowquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will comes for dinner and stays the night with his manipulative psychiatrist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Bright

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lightly reformatted long-form roleplay between tumblr players, bloodspatteredgraham (irridescentsong) and fingersandwiches (jcrowquill). Irridescentsong writes for Will and jcrowquill writes for Hannibal, with some slight overlap and description by both. This is the first in what will likely be a longish set of scenes tracing Hannibal's manipulation and grooming of Will; it is canon divergent, meaning that the initial scene or scenes are reasonably canon, but the storyline will be heading in a different direction than the series. The first scene is set somewhere around Buffet Froid.

Sometimes when Hannibal cooked, there was no real significance - it was simply sustenance. Cooking for others generally carried more meaning, though it was only occasionally motivated by any of his version of warmth. More often, it was ironic as he innocently gave the upper class a taste for blood, fattening future stock on the richest feed possible. It was funny to think of livestock eating gourmet, swine eating swine, and there was something deeply satisfying and darkly humorous about hearing them remark over and over on the perfection of the flavor.

It was different when he cooked for Will Graham. Instead of subtly mocking him, he was treating him as his equal by nurturing him and feeding his fractured soul; he was making him more like himself.

He had cooked for him tonight - a delicately grilled steak with a beautiful assortment of roasted vegetables. And it had been well-received, of course, but the dark-haired, slim-wristed profiler had only eaten a portion of his plate. Hannibal let it go and simply wrapped it up for him to take home for later, then plied him onto the couch with a dark, succulent red wine for more conversation.

“Will,” he commented, frowning, “Your color is not very good. Are you all right?”

Of course, he could smell the sweetness of the infection and the heat of the fever burning him from inside. He’d felt it when he’d lightly rested his hand at the small of his back when he had passed behind him briefly in the kitchen.

Far more used to drinking a few fingers of whiskey before bed in hopes that they would warn off the night terrors that plagued his sleep, the wine was a pleasant change for Will, who was almost curled into the corner of the sofa, eyes bright with the firelight but dark with the hush of something not quite right.

"I'm fine," he murmured quietly before returning to his wine. He was not quite to the point of being impolitely drunk, "Just warm. Probably the wine going to my head."

Truth be told, he'd been feeling off lately. Well, more off than usual. The words reminded him of what Katz had said - that no one would realize when something was wrong with him. Hell, sometimes Will felt as if he couldn't tell when something was wrong himself. It must have been all part of the frustrations of being an empathic autistic profiler.

Hannibal, who had noticed that Will's responses in discussion were becoming less connected to the topics, frowned a bit. He was concerned for Will in a real way, even if the reasons and manifestations of his concern and affection may have been different from those of any other man. 

He took a sip of his own wine, then set the glass slightly on the elegant end table before he climbed to his feet to cross the space between his chair and his guest.

With little regard for Will's personal space, both from knowing that the man wouldn't object to his proximity and feeling a comfortable degree of ownership over him, he knelt down before him and laid his palm against his brow. The heat was oddly arousing; the warmth and damp of his smooth skin was confirmation of his control over him. The fact that he could touch Will Graham without the sensitive creature flinching away gave him power, and the way that he leaned into his hand turned the minute gesture into an erotic reminder of Dr. Lecter's omnipotence.

And this close, the depth and softness of his companion's eyes stirred a curious version of his own tenderness. He'd cool that heat, this time, for him.

"You're burning up," he told him.

The cool press of a hand against his brow made Will shut his eyes, leaning into the caring gesture with an almost affectionate warmth. He trusted the older man completely, trusted him to keep him safe from his own mind and to guide him back to a grounded state. To remind him of what reality was when he seemed to disassociate with it.

Tentatively, his eyes opened again, blinking as he met the doctor's before shutting again, just to see if he could actually will that coolness through his body.

"Stress tends to heighten body temperature," he said quietly, almost inaudible. "I always run warm."

He wouldn't deny that the cool hand on his brow felt wonderful, and he pressed his cheek into it, almost like one of his dogs would when it wanted to be petted.

Hannibal's expression remained concerned, even as his mind smiled at Will's yielding movement. He smoothed his fingers back from his face to his slight mussed, soft curls.

"This is a fever and I am concerned. I don't think that you are in condition to drive home..." He said, letting his hand linger in his hair, his fingertips resting against his skull just behind his ear.

He absently drew his hand back, skimming his fingertips over his zygomatic arch.

"I insist on you staying in one of my guest rooms."

“I’ll be fine,” Will murmured quietly, just enjoying the simple, almost soothing touches to his skin and hair, “I’m just a bit warm.”

Downplaying what was happening to him always seemed second nature. Mustn’t let anyone know there was a problem, lest they try to declare him not of sound mind and put him somewhere he really didn’t want to be. Arguing with Doctor Lecter seemed almost wrong, in a weird way, and part of him wanted to submit to staying the night, but a nagging portion told him to go home, deal with his nightmares and fever dreams away from anyone who might discern them.

"No, no," Hannibal replied, shaking his head, "it is already late, you've already had a glass of wine... a fever is one complication too many to make driving safe."

The psychiatrist smiled in his slight, gently concerned way and rested his hand lightly on the top of Will's leg, “You must stay if only to put my mind at ease."

Something in him was very nearly unable to resist that smile, as small as it was, and Will nodded, feeling himself cave immediately.

“I don’t want to trouble you, but I shouldn’t be driving after drinking, even just one glass.” He knew the percentages of impairment after even just one glass, and particularly with the instability he’d been feeling lately, it was not the best of decisions. “I could, could wash the dishes or something, if you’d like.”

Will didn’t want to take advantage of one of the very few friends he had, and staying the night without helping him in some way would be doing exactly that.

"Nonsense... you need to rest," Hannibal told him, rubbing his thumb lightly against the soft weave of his trousers, "We should begin with some aspirin and a cool compress for your brow..."

Will swallowed thickly, eyes darting down to the almost too-familiar hand on his leg before rapidly blinking to clear whatever suspicions tried to cloud his mind.

"I don't want to inconvenience you..."

“It’s no inconvenience,” he said, meeting his eyes for a stunning, piercing moment before he rose gracefully to his feet, “You stay right there.”

He raised his hand as though forbidding Will to protest, then walked off to fetch a few things that he needed. The profiler recognized that there was something in that gaze that blatantly said do not argue; the gesture was further evidence that Will shouldn't be moving from his seat, no matter the amount of obligation he felt. The quiet moments alone would be mainly spent trying to accept that the fact that he was accepting a favor from one of his very few friends.

The doctor knew that Will was already taking fever reducers; he’d heard the rattle of the bottle in his jacket pocket when he’d arrived. However, that had been hours ago and he knew it would be safe to feed him more medication, though it would have to be moderate because of the wine.

He returned a moment later with a glass of water and a capsule of acetaminophen. After wordlessly handing both to his guest, he disappeared again. When he was again at Will’s side, he was carrying a bowl of cool water and a washcloth.

“Would you lie down after you’ve taken the medication?”

Wordlessly, Will took the glass and the medication, popping it into his mouth before downing half of the glass of water. He finished the water before curling up in the corner of the sofa, letting his eyes droop slightly, blinking slowly.

Hannibal knelt down again beside him. He rested his hand briefly against his brow, first his palm and then the backs of his knuckles, before sitting back on his heels and dipping the folded washcloth into the cool water. He carefully rung it out, then laid it lightly across Will's forehead.

"There are all manner of home remedies for fever," he mused, looking at his supine companion, "Ranging from consuming certain plants to applying various substances to the body. I've heard that rubbing down the skin with vinegar or vodka from knee to foot is supposed to reduce a fever... but to me that always seemed more like a marinade."

Will chuckled lightly at the thought of vodka being a marinade.

"They- they used to use rubbing alcohol on the skin, but it lowered the core temperature too much. That's why they don't reco-recommend it to bring down fevers in children any more." The coolness of the cloth on his forehead made him breathe deeper in surprise, the cold almost a shock to his system, before he relaxed again, practically sinking back onto the sofa.

"My mom always used to feed me fresh pineapple instead of medicine." Will added. A small laugh accompanied the statement, and he tried again to relax, shifting his hips slightly to get more comfortable.

Hannibal, seated beside him, reached over to lightly stroke Will’s soft, unruly hair back from his brow. It was a small kindness to pull his hair away from the damp cloth, but it was also self-serving in that he simply wanted to touch the other man again. They touched very infrequently, and it was his desire that the growth in contact would be carefully administered on his own terms.

Always, it would guide Will to the conclusion that the doctor was safe and that the doctor cared for him. The latter was true, at least, though Hannibal’s version of caring for him was perhaps not what the empath would have wanted for himself. It was a version of caring that perhaps was a bit destructive and more than a little dangerous

As he looked at Will’s soft, relaxed body on his sofa, the older man felt a surge of want for him. He wanted to possess him completely; though his gentle guidance had led Will to an obvious reliance on his judgments, it didn’t satisfy Hannibal’s desire to claim him and consume him. Not in the literal sense for once, but in the sense that he wanted to take the darker-haired man and bend his body to his will, to suck the breath from his kisses, and to feel his live, warm musculature beneath his hands and to taste the fevered salt of his smooth skin.

“Did it work?” he asked mildly.

The doctor's fingers were cooling against his hair and skin, and it made his eyelids droop with subtle pleasure. Will wouldn't readily admit to enjoying the soft placating touches, but he did, especially being used to it as being a child under a mother's comforting touch.

"As far as I can remember, but she died when I was five. I don't have many memories beyond her comforting me when I had the flu." There was plenty from his childhood that he couldn't remember about his mother, at times, he couldn't even remember her. "But it could have been the whiskey my father gave me."

Hannibal laughed softly and there was a touch of genuine humor to the sound. His fingers slid through his hair and looped around to tuck a few locks behind his ear. From there, his cool fingertips traced the sternocleidomastoid muscle from his jaw to collar bone, unshyly dipping just below the collar of his shirt.

“Whiskey does wonders for fevers.”

There was almost a faint tensing at the wandering fingers underneath his collar, but he relaxed within moments again, laughing lightly. "But apparently not much for nightmares. Hasn't helped me avoid mine yet." Evening drinks of whiskey were common with just enough time before sleep to let it take hold, but nothing seemed to ward off the incessant plague. Perhaps, though, the relaxation forcing its way through him might change that.

“No, I wouldn’t imagine so... you need to set your mind at ease before sleeping, which would in turn soothe your dreams,” Hannibal said, watching his face. He drew his hand back in favor of picking the washcloth off of his brow and dipping it again into the fresh water, rinsing it, and replacing it. 

"I've tried the meditative crap. Zeller gave me some book on it, and I couldn't get through half of it. I tried, but 'aligning your chakras' just didn't relax me," Will admitted quietly.

Then again, nothing had relaxed him half as much as he currently was, laying on the good doctor's sofa and allowing himself to be taken care of. He missed the cool kiss of the cloth when it was removed, but the return of it was cooler than previous, a tell-tale sign that he was giving off enormous amounts of heat, and he sighed gently.

Hannibal smoothed the washcloth lightly, making the cloth conform to the skull beneath it, then lightly rested his knuckles against Will’s cheek to check the temperature. Satisfied that it was decreasing slightly, he dragged his hand down again and unfastened the topmost button of his guest’s shirt. 

Fingers against the slightly rumpled row of buttons on his shirt made Will tense again, eyes blinking open inquisitively.

Hannibal met his eyes and laughed softly, the sound warm, rich, and completely self-assured. His confidence was authoritative; he felt as though he was entitled to touch Will (and indeed, it was his right as the profiler belonged to him) and therefore he didn’t really acknowledge any sort of questioning.

“I think that there are more effective methods, breathing exercises, visualizations... setting certain positive routines. You can use scent or sound to associate positive memories, and carefully make your bedroom a place of comfort and safety.”

Will's small house had become mostly all one room, bringing everything into the space on the main floor, particularly so it could be as comforting as he could get it.

"I sleep with a gun under my pillow and I'm surrounded by my dogs. I don't know how much more comforting I could make it." Will relaxed with the laughter, settling back down in the familiar supine position. "Most of my memories lately are skewed versions of things that are not my own anyway."

Hannibal tsked slightly at the description of his very unrestful sleeping arrangement, and he met the description of his memories with a slight frown.

“We will work to associate positive feelings with sleep, then... and I will help you to release some of the images that plague you before you close your eyes,” he told him. 

The short laughter Will gave was very nearly doubtful, hiding a tone of almost irony in it.

"You're more than welcome to try, but I don't know how you're going to convince my brain to stop showing me nightmares." It was one of the very few things he was actually afraid of, and it made sleeping very nearly impossible.

The doctor's hand moved up to cup Will’s cheek and he ran his thumb lightly across Will’s lower lip, commenting, “Your lips are dry... you need to drink more.”

Warmth enveloped his cheek, and the empath blinked rapidly, eyes running from the faint detail of fingers on his face to the doctor's, then back to where they rested on his lips. The urge to kiss and nip the tip of his finger was overwhelming, but Will shook it off, looking back to his friend.

"I think it's the sweating and the fever..."

“It doesn’t change the fact that you need more water,” Hannibal replied calmly. He released him for a moment, then pulled the fever-warmed washcloth from his brow again. He wrung it out and dipped it again, then wrung it out again. He gently blotted Will’s lips with a wet corner, then lightly laid it across his forehead again.

Will's expression softened with the gentle touch of cold to his lips, beating back the compulsion to lick them with the new wetness. Better to let it absorb, he supposed, eyes half-lidded in the surrounding dark.

Hannibal watched his face and paused a moment, warring with himself over the proper course of action. There was the obvious sexual tension between them - he’d felt Will’s lips purse slightly as though he was fighting the reflex to kiss his thumb and he knew that the empath wasn’t unmoved by his small attentions - but he also knew that the manipulation he had been toying with was not complete, and there was the possibility that the relationship could become damaged by a false step.

But, the end game was to possess Will Graham in every regard... and why not test his limits now, to see if he truly had the younger man under the spell that he fancied that he had cast?

Without another word, and as naturally as though it had happened many times before, the doctor leaned down and pressed a light, lingering kiss to Will’s damp mouth.

The gentle pressure against his mouth again, this time soft and supple, made Will feel as if his temperature was spiking again and that it had just been his imagination. If it really was though, maybe all of this was a fever dream, he wanted to be able to remember it when he woke up.

Almost hesitantly, Will kissed back, lightly at first, and then with a bit more impatience before finally pulling back, letting his eyes close at the after-effects of the pressure on his lips. Somehow, he feared that words, even just a few, would ruin it. Whatever had just happened.

Hannibal was pleased by that reaction. He stroked his long fingers over Will’s cheek, commenting, “Isn’t that better?”

He knew he should have been content with that, and he should have leaned back and carried on conversation as though nothing had happened. However, now he had a taste for him and he wanted more.

Feeling bold now at Will’s acceptance, he leaned close again and paused with only a scant margin of air between them. He drew in the breath that Will had just exhaled, then traded his own breath to the other man’s lungs. After a half-second longer, he closed the space between them and kissed him again, this time with his lips parted.

The exchange of air was somehow more intimate than the kiss had been, lungs filled up with nothing but the psychiatrist's exhalation. It felt all-consuming, like a blaze set fire to his insides, writhing and taking hold of him. The kiss was just as gentle, even-pressed, and Will tentatively slid his tongue along the part in the doctor's lips before retreating again, kissing him softly.

He had wanted this for a while, the closeness and intimacy of it, but there was almost a feeling of terror that kept him from acting on it. The awkwardness that might have come about because of misinterpreted intentions among other things. Will gave another subtle flick of his tongue against the soft part, sucking lightly at the doctor's bottom lip.

Hannibal opened his mouth into the kiss, sliding his tongue smoothly against his patient's as his hand rose again to rest against his jaw. There was a flicker of amusement at the idea of Will as his patient, and how that relationship expressly forbade this one. However, he leaned in closer, the kiss turning slightly less tentative and more heated. 

There was something so arousing about messing up the neatly folded corners of the doctor's life, starting with the perfect neatness of his hair. The hand on his face was the invitation that he needed, sliding his own hand back against the base of his neck, thumb stroking up into his hair. Will shifted on the sofa, turning slightly to rest more on his side as his confidence in the kiss grew.

The doctor's breath caught at the intimate intrusion, and he pressed forward to continue kissing him even as their positions shifted. His other hand came to rest on Will's slim chest, where his long fingers caressed over the lean muscles. 

Will's motions stuttered, almost as if suddenly realizing what he was doing, and he paused, drawing back just to put a small amount of space between them.

"Is- is this part of fever treatment," he murmured quietly, blinking before meeting his eyes without his usual hesitation.

Hannibal smiled, amused, as he pulled back a bit further so that he could look as his colleague. He reached up to take the now-warm cloth and re-wet it. As he rung it out, he replied quietly, "I suppose it could be termed 'alternative medicine.'"

He was slightly surprised by the breathless quality of his own voice. He was on the verge of powerful arousal that he was trying to carefully keep in check.

"Alternative medicine," Will repeated with a warm chuckle, setting up against the arm of the sofa more instead of reclining. "I suppose that's a way to describe it."

There was a warmth to his voice, an unaccustomed tone, and it surprised him. He wanted to pull the elder man into his lap and kiss him more, ruffling up the neatly pressed edges of his appearance.

"Well, Will..." the doctor mused, his usual pronunciation of the empath's name softening the terminal "l" into an almost "w." The tone was soft and unusually sensual, quiet and compelling. 

"I just want to see that you are properly cared for."

He lifted the cool cloth to blot Will's flushed cheeks and neck. Meeting his eyes with the same self-assured confidence as ever.

Will chuckled almost darkly, an amused look crossing his reddened face. "Probably one of the only people in my life that wants that," he said wryly. The cool press of the cloth was soothing and he let his eyes dip closed as if the previous few moments hadn't occurred, were a projection of his sickened state.

When his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly, Hannibal was able to easily visualize Will beneath him, gasping his want for more and harder. It made sitting, well-behaved, beside him slightly more difficult and much less desirable. Nonetheless, he was cool and collected even if he would have dearly liked to press him down against the cushions and do an assortment of pleasurable but professionally unethical things to him.

He reached up and gently eased him back again, then laid the cloth across his brow and over his eyes. Perhaps it would help not seeing his dark lashes where they rested against his flushed cheek.

"A good many people care for you... How are you feeling now?"

The ensuing darkness against his eyes was cool and calming, and Will breathed deeply, trying to release the pent-up arousal that coursed through his system.

"Aroused," he said quickly, hoping that maybe his companion wouldn't think too differently for his admission. He moved on quickly to add, "Everyone cares for me because I'm their empathic autistic profiler, not because they genuinely care."

The initial statement of being made Hannibal smile, perhaps a bit darkly.

"I can't speak for the reasons for their concern... But I can say, as I have said before, that I care more for you than your work..."

The doctor leaned closer, liking that Will couldn't see him and would only feel his breath against his cheek, then jaw as he leaned in to press a kiss to the pulse point below his ear. He had cut through that on others, and even now he could likely rip through with his teeth like a wild animal. But he just kissed, open-mouthed, as his hand moved to his chest again.

"And I can also address certain other needs of yours."

Will knew that his words were genuine, which he appreciated beyond expression. Warm breath spread over the side of his face, and if his eyes hadn't been shut, they would've flickered closed at the sensation, hot slick warmth pressed just below his ear.

"I don't- it's not- you don't have to," he managed out, trying to calm the arousal beating fast through his veins.

"It has nothing to do with having to do anything," he said, his hand sliding down his chest, across his tender belly, and resting lightly on his far hip, "Unless you would prefer that I did not...?"

Will attempted to keep as calmly still as he could but the light touches across his skin left a burning trail underneath his clothes, and he swallowed harshly in response.

"I don't- that is-" Instead of continuing to babble like he'd lost his mind, he swallowed again, fighting back the stammering. "I won't say that I haven't been attracted to you for some time now, because it would be a lie," he murmured quietly.

Hannibal leaned close again so that they were almost nose to nose, and when he spoke his breath was warm against the younger man's lips.

"I know..."

The hand that was on his hip shifted inward and the doctor drew a knowing fingertip up the contour of the arousal outlined by Will's slim-fitting trousers. He turned his head and spoke quietly against the shell of his ear.

"...and I've always encouraged that attraction."

A strong shiver of a combination of intense emotions rolled through Will, and he swallowed again, the motion almost caught in his throat.

“I never could tell if you were oblivious or just silently encouraging,” he very nearly whispered, not wanting to move and break whatever had descended upon them.

The doctor laughed softly, “I’m rarely oblivious.”

He pressed a light kiss to the angle of his mandible, his palm resting lightly on the button of his trousers.

Will swallowed thickly again, nibbling at the corner of his lips as he forced himself to remain still. It had been far longer than he cared to admit since he’d been in contact with another person, but that wasn’t entirely the reason why he felt a flush of nervousness. Rather, he didn’t want to change their working relationship by what could possibly amount to a Bad Idea.

“As I’ve noticed,” he mumbled quietly, fidgeting on the sofa lightly.

Hannibal tilted his head down and slightly to the side and looked up at him thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb lightly along the zip closure of his trousers. His voice was soft and uncritical when he spoke.

“Should I stop?”

Part of him wanted to remove the cloth covering his eyes so that he could see as well as feel the almost gentle hands playing his body like an instrument, but the other half was afraid that he’d wake up in his bed, alone except for the dogs.

“I- I don’t want this to be a mistake.”

He tried for calmness, for any bit of strength in his voice he could muster, but with the light press against his cock through his trousers, it seemed extremely hard to concentrate.

With his free hand, the slightly predatory doctor reached up to pull the washcloth back from his face. He smiled at him thoughtfully, then leaned in, “You don’t want to wake up and find that this was not real...”

He lifted his hand from his trousers and pushed up the cuff of his own sleeve, then held his wrist out to Will so that he could see his watch. 

“Tell me, Will.”

The dim room flooded back into view and he blinked, admiring the curve of the smile on the doctor’s lips, nodding softly from his half-reclined position. With one hand, he slipped his thin fingers over the curve of his wrist, looking at the face of the watch before kissing the center of his palm.

“It’s 10:15 pm, in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Will Graham.”

The older man turned his hand in Will’s hold, then brought it to his lips to kiss his first two knuckles. Holding the profiler’s hand in his own, letting his mouth rest against the slight callus, he asked, “And tell me, Will Graham, do you want my hands on you?”

He cocked his head slightly, raising his eyebrows just a bit as he watched the other man’s face. He could see the conflict in his expression, in the furrow of his brow and the set of his soft mouth. A part of him enjoyed the contest and he was curious as to how it would play out and what Will would choose tonight. In the end, he knew that the slim, sleepless man would choose him, but that was no guarantee for his actions this evening.

He couldn’t trust his voice to not quaver and crack in the middle of the word, so Will merely nodded, no hesitation in the movement. It was like entering a lion’s den without knowing if the lion was asleep or awake, if it would attack you or perhaps just let you stroke its mane softly. There was something predatory in the doctor, Will recognized that of course, but he doubted that it was towards him. Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him at all.

“I’d like that,” he murmured finally, brushing his thumb gently along his bottom lip.

Hannibal smiled slowly, then leaned across the space between them and kissed him. It was a firm, steady pressure, and when he parted his lips to deepen the gesture, the movement of his tongue was deep and claiming. He laid one hand along Will’s jaw to hold him in place as he continued to kiss him while the other hand lightly palmed the younger man’s prick through his trousers, appreciatively imagining its contours through touch.

He continued to tease him as he kissed him, enjoying the slight wine-tinged taste of his mouth and the slightly elevated temperature of his cheek under his fingers.

It was an intense feeling, almost like drowning though he had more than enough air,immediately reminding him of the time he'd kissed Alana, but this was different. So different thathis mind threatened to run away with him with the dual sensations stroking lines along his skin, as if the doctor was touching his bones instead, his organs, caressing more than just the surface of him. It was a sensation that he could easily get lost in. The hand that had curled its way against the soft fine hair at the base of his neck stroked higher, gentle in the soft touches as Will kissed back with a growing intensity, fueled both by need and by the fever.

Hannibal’s hand slid upward finally to undo the buttons of Will’s trousers, then both worked to free the younger man’s arousal from his trousers and boxers. The doctor was pleased by the warm weight of it in his hand and the smooth heat as his fingers slid caressingly over the head and shaft. He sucked lightly on Will’s tongue, then nipped his lower lip before kissing away the small sting.

Will shifted his hips around minutely to facilitate Hannibal freeing of his prick from his trousers, the light blue boxer briefs plain and utilitarian but still completely functional. The darkened air was cool against his fevered skin, the flush apparent even under his clothing, and the combination of the hand on his skin and the lips on his own made him unable to contain the small noise of pleasure at the attentions, moaning softly against the doctor’s mouth.

The doctor’s fingers curled around his cock loosely and gave a few experimental pulls. He liked how it filled his palm and how Will’s body moved so easily under his hands. He could tell that it had been some time since the other man had been touched by anyone other than himself, and he felt a rush of possessive pleasure that he was Will’s first after this dry spell, rather than Dr. Bloom. 

The movements against his body were less tentative than he thought they might’ve been, and Will had an unbearable urge to slide from the sofa and settle himself into the doctor’s pristine lap and promptly rumple his clothing with his actions. With a bit more aggressiveness in the kiss, he shifted around to sitting before kicking off his boxers and trousers, letting them slide away so that he could drop onto his knees, straddling the good doctor’s lap.

The button-down shirt hung down past his backside, affording Will some slight modesty. Hannibal could feel the tension in the younger man’s thighs against his own and it pushed something deep within him. He smiled against his mouth, then kissed him more fiercely, more possessively. His hips arched up against Will, grinding his clothed arousal against the cleft of his backside.

“Ah, Will...” he breathed appreciatively.

The subtle shift to more demanding and possessive made something clench low in WIll’s abdomen, and he returned the ferocity of the kiss, one hand sliding back up into soft fine hair at the nape of his friend’s neck, not wanting to let space come between them. He rocked his hips lightly at the press of returned arousal against his own body, moaning softly.

“It’s... been a while,” he murmured, almost ashamed. “A long while.”

Hannibal laughed softly, “Then I am flattered...”

He kissed Will’s throat, his hand finding his prick again and stroking him slowly. The weight of the other man’s body against him and the forceful press of his hips against his own drew a pleased sound from deep within the doctor’s chest. He was pleased to be right about Will’s desire for him, and even more pleased by the opportunity to touch him so soon. 

It was not at all how he'd expected the evening to turn out, but Will wasn’t about to start complaining. The good doctor had been part of his wants almost since they'd met, though he had been concerned about reciprocity. It had been unnecessary, apparently, but it didn't stop a certain amount of timidity in his actions. The free moan at the hand on his cock followed a strong roll of his hips as Will was unable to control the movement.

The erratic grinding of Will's body against Hannibal's taut trouser front was no doubt pressing wrinkles into the fine fabric, but the doctor's thoughts were occupied with the heat of his chest against his and the delightful friction against his own cock. Will's skin was hot against his lips, and he couldn't resist opening his mouth to taste him. He kissed, open mouthed, dragging his tongue over his salty skin, pressing his lips to his prominent Adam's apple and the hollow between his collar bones.

His hand moved smoothly on Will's arousal, his fingers tight enough to begin building sensation for the younger man. He rubbed his thumb across the head of his prick, sliding his thumb up the slit to catch the beading moisture and spread it across the tip. 

"Ah," Will moaned softly, hips arching into the strong grasp around his cock, mouth dipping to find his friend's again, kissing open mouthed across his jaw before kissing against his soft lips, nipping his bottom lip affectionately.

“I’m awake and this isn’t a dream,” he murmured quietly, kissing at his jaw again, as if reminding himself that he was in the present. The fever dreams had grown increasingly prominent in his sleep, but this one had none of the markers of the other fever dreams.

At those words, Hannibal bit down on his throat just below the collar of his shirt, as if to provide even more evidence that he wasn’t have some erotic, fevered dream. Harder, and he could have tasted his blood. This time though, it was just a playful, slightly possessive nip followed by a heated swipe of his tongue over the reddening mark.

"Have you dreamt of this before?" the doctor asked, tightening his hand on his prick and bucking his hips upward once against Will's bare backside.

Will gasped at the possessiveness in the nip, squirming his hips as if to encourage more of the same.

"Similar, but not entirely the same," he admitted, a sharp noise of want breaking from his throat.

"God," came Will’s small gasp, "want you."

"It is very mutual," the older man breathed huskily, "but it would be too much for you with your fever..."

It took every bit of willpower he had to say no with the blood rushing in his ears and the heat of Will's overwarm body pushing demandingly against him. He knew, though, that this couldn't be too sudden, and if he slept with Will now it could be written off as a fevered, poorly thought out one night stand.

He knew it would be better to satisfy him on a less complete level and let the tension linger, reminding him of the reality of this evening with kisses to his neck in the morning over breakfast and pressing warmly up against his back. He could go a long way toward building Will's lust and dependence before he finally took him.

At the moment though, it was hard to remind himself that he wanted Will completely, not just tonight, and his body moved involuntarily to push up against him.

"But I do..." he took a harsh breath and gave Will's cock a firm jerk, "want you... _very_ badly..."

Will cried out at the strong tug to his cock, his hips arching with the movement, making his lust drive higher.

"Have me then," he murmured, leaning up just a fraction more to lay a line of kisses along his throat, the rich heady scent of the doctor invading his mind. "Take me."

All he wanted was to be consumed completely by the eccentric and beautiful man, one of the few people to actually care for him on a human level. "Please. Hannibal, please."

Will’s voice, almost begging, made the doctor feel powerful and it actually made it easier for him to continue to say no. He liked the tone for that, but he also liked it just for its soft timber and the genuine quality of pure want. He leaned in and kissed him deeply with an unusual degree of affection, before murmuring against his mouth, “No... not tonight...”

He stroked his companion’s length more quickly, his other arm circling around his back to pull him closer. That hand slid down the small of his back, down the cleft of his backside to lightly press and caress the sensitive, taut muscles at the entrance to his body. He wouldn’t give him the penetration that he wanted, but he would give him sensation.

“Tonight I’ll just make you come...”

Will groaned gutturally, wanting to press back just enough for the intense feeling of penetration, but knew that the doctor wouldn't satisfy that desire for him tonight.

"Wait, wait just a moment," he murmured, kissing at the strength of his jaw before sliding off his lap to stand, only to settle back down, facing away from his, but with his arse pressing directly against the older man's arousal. It was enough that he could lean his head back onto his shoulder, lazily kissing at his neck, with enough leverage to grind against him.

"I want you, want you to have me," he said through a moan.

Hannibal moaned quietly against his ear, turning his head to inhale deeply the musky, herbal smell of his dark hair.

“How many times do I have to tell you no?” he breathed, his hands on the sharp wings of Will’s pelvis.

He pushed Will forward, off-balance, spilling the younger man onto his hands and knees. Covering his body with his own and pressing his back smoothly against Will’s, he ground his hips against his backside as he reached around to grasp his cock again.

Will just barely caught himself with his hands, resting the weight evenly on them as well as his knees before arching back to press more firmly, almost teasingly, against the doctor’s groin.

“Until you get the hint and give in,” he replied with only the smallest bit of stammer, more from talking back than from anything else. He wanted to be covered in the dark-eyed doctor’s scent, to carry it around with him.

Hannibal smiled against his shoulder, “I won’t tonight, Will...”

He stroked his cock again, keeping his hand tight as he quickened his pace. He ground his hips against Will’s backside, liking the sensation of his taut muscles against his thighs. He kissed the back of the younger man’s neck, then rolled his own hips forward in a very suggestive thrust that knocked him forward on his hands.

Will very nearly whined at the denial again, letting his head drop with the increased pace against his cock as he bit his lip.

“I’m certain that fucking while feverish isn’t a risk to my health,” he retorted, though the argument was only half-way serious at this point. His arms buckled with the sharp movement, dropping his with his shoulders very nearly touching the soft rug underneath them.

The profanity was beautiful in the otherwise silence, and Hannibal rewarded him with a bite to the back of his shoulder and another, harder thrust against him that rolled him forward again. He stroked him quickly, murmuring, “I want to give it a full evening... and a bit more formality...”

“Ah, you should’ve just said that then,” Will managed out, breath coming in hard pants, gasps for air as his body responded to the force behind the actions, both physical and dominative. “This isn’t your way of not letting me reciprocate, is it?”

“Mm-hmm...” the doctor breathed, rocking his hips against him, grinding on him as he stroked him out of time with his movements.

Will's breathing became a veritable hiss of curses, trying to keep coherent thought in order to string words together. "Not even- if I suck you off on my knees?" The last syllable was drawn out as his hips shoved forward, desperate for release.

The older man jerked him back onto his hips, enjoying the friction and the lack of his own release. It was maddening and enervating, and he felt very much in control and very much alive. Beneath him, Will was hot and firm-bodied. His prick in his hand was wet at the tip, and Hannibal was curious to taste.

“No, not even then...” he moaned quietly, his voice soft and breathless as he quickened his hand on Will, “But I want you to come, Will... I would like to hear you...”

A frustrated half-whine escaped the profiler's throat, body more than taut with the need to come, and quickly.

"Wring your hand at the tip," he stuttered out, shoving his hips forward and back against the strong movements, the rhythm becoming frantic with need. Whatever barrier had been there was blasted away with the force of how deeply he needed this, the release at the hand of someone he trusted explicitly.

Hannibal did as he was bid, sliding his hand upward and focusing his attentions just at the head of his his cock. His palm was curled about the tip as he stroked upward, all of his senses focused on his companion's mounting orgasm. He could feel the muscles in his lower back clenching against his own belly, and the tightening of his backside and thighs against the front of his own legs. The pressure, the yielding grind of Will's ass against his tented erection, aroused an almost animal desire to have him right then.

But he was unprepared for that, and an animal was one thing that Hannibal was not; he was _not_ going to fuck Will Graham on his living room floor.

Instead, he rutted against him, imagining what it would be like to impale the younger man on his aching prick, and whispered hotly against his jaw, "Come on, Will...come now."

Will bit his lip to stifle the gasp at the focused attentions, hips squirming wildly as they tried to facilitate his orgasm. Breathing seemed no longer a priority over the deep clenching need in his muscles, threatening to seize up as his body released. All he could think of was the pleasure coursing through his system, it was all his mind allowed, and the way his entire being focused and centered on the growing warmth in the pit of his stomach, the way his nerves buzzed with raw need. The husky hot accented words against his skin was the final push his body needed, the permission implied, and his moan became a wordless shout with his hips thrust forward as he came.

The doctor felt the warm slick in his palm and stroked Will several times more, dragging the last of his pent-up sexual frustration out of him with a few deft flicks of his wrist. Still draped over Will, he nuzzled his lips against the damp curve of his neck and inhaled the heady, wet smell of his release.

No one else would notice, but with his heightened senses he would be able to smell sex in the living room for days.

He lingered there for a moment longer before sitting back on his heels. His own arousal was still a prominent bulge in his trouser front as he lifted his hand to his mouth to lick his fingers.

It was sensual, but it was also culinary. He identified the balance of salty and bitter, the slick-smooth texture, the very faint sweetness. He could recognize the subtleties of the flavor, and which notes he had tasted already on Will's skin. 

He had a strong urge to smear his thumb along the younger man's lower lip to make him taste himself, share in this as Hannibal had shared the prepared meal earlier. That was wine, though, where this was sun-warmed grapes; he didn't know if Will could appreciate the difference.

Will sagged for a moment before rolling over into his back, legs splayed out on either side of the doctor's thighs. His chest heaved with the force of catching his breath, recovering far faster from the exertion than he'd thought he might. He leaned back against the edge of the sofa, feeling completely worn out, and himself satisfied. There was a nagging bit that was unsatisfied with the fact that he had gotten off but his partner hadn't. Leaning forward off the edge of the sofa, he caught a hand against Hannibal's jaw, kissing him thoroughly. "Won't you let me help," he murmured against his lips, flicking his tongue against Hannibal's bottom lip, stealing the taste away with a smirk.

Hannibal had not expected the ready kiss or the open acceptance of the taste of himself on his tongue. He kissed Will in return slowly, saving the sensation of his soft mouth to his personal cache of pleasurable thoughts. He didn't allow the other man to turn the kiss too heated; instead he kept it at a low, rolling boil.

Finally, he pulled back and smiled, the expression subtle as always.

"Not tonight... Tonight I am putting you to bed."

Will shifted forward, following after the doctor's mouth like an addiction before rising to his knees and settling down to straddle his lap. "What about you, though?" The arousal between them was blatant, and he shifted his hips languorously, kissing at his throat, even though the movements were tempered by feverish intensity and sleepiness.

The initial response was a low, soft exhalation. Then Hannibal's hands came to rest on his colleagues hips, and with some careful force of will he stilled the other man's movements.

He allowed the kisses a moment longer, then tilted his head down to give him a single, forcefully possessive kiss. He pulled back minutely and said softly against Will's mouth, "Tomorrow, Will... you are exhausted."

The intensity and force behind the kiss made Will moan softly, knowing instinctively that he would not win this contest of wills between them. In a display of almost blatant defeat, he slumped forward, resting his fevered brow on the doctor's shoulder, breathing steadily. "Tomorrow."

The doctor laughed in surprise and slid his arms comfortably about his companion. He leaned his cheek against his hair, then asked, "Would you like to sleep with me or do you prefer a guest room?"

The question made him feel incredibly awkward, even in the compromising and surprisingly intimate positioning of their bodies, and he froze momentarily. Did he really want to even think about sleeping next to him, only to be embarrassed when his night terrors took over?

"The- the guest room is fine," Will said quietly, the slightest hint of stammer in his words. He definitely did not want to go through that embarrassment now.

Hannibal realized that his polite question had been taken the wrong way; he felt the tension in his companion's back and thighs, and he lightly rubbed the small of his back.

"Ah," he mused, knowing that Will sleeping alone now would damage the dependence that he was actively building in the younger man, "I had hoped that you would join me, but I want you to be your most comfortable."

Will swallowed slightly, trying to parse together the meanings behind his words. "I'm not a very good bed partner," he said quietly. "But if- if you want me, I don't mind trying." Gone so quickly was the confidence that the profiler had felt with the burn of arousal, leaving him stammering back into his usual unsure self.

Hannibal simply replied "Good" before catching his jaw and kissing him on the mouth. His hand lightly caressed the top of the younger man's thigh lightly, making calm, obscene promises, "We'll see if your fever has abated in the morning."

Will smiled and nodded into the kiss, suddenly feeling far more exposed than he had moments ago. A yawn blocked any words he had been trying to say, his head turned to the side and throat bared as he did before leaning forward again to rest his head against Hannibal's shoulder.

The older man rested his hand lightly against the back of his head, feeling the contours of his skull beneath his hair and flesh. He murmured, “Come to bed, Will.”

Will nodded mutely before sliding off the neatly pressed trousers and reaching for his boxers, sliding them up his legs before gathering his trousers as well. "Lead the way?"

Hannibal climbed to his feet and looked over his companion, then lightly rested his hand at the small of his back, “Of course...”

He walked him back through the house and upstairs, into the parts that Will had not seen before. The decorating was consistent throughout, all understated and elegant. It had a slightly minimalist look to it in that there was a lot of open space, however, the art and furniture that had been chosen was not simply utilitarian; there was a sense of careful aesthetic choice and an obvious appreciation for form that extended far beyond simple function.

His bedroom was large, though not to the point of being ridiculous. The sleigh bed was large and covered with a deep maroon comforter, and the furniture was all in corresponding dark colored woods. The pieces didn’t match precisely, but they coordinated artfully. 

The doctor guided Will to the bed and gestured for him to sit.

“Would you like pyjamas, or do you prefer to wear what you have...? Or perhaps you sleep nude?”

The generous furnishings put his own small house to shame with the tasteful decorations and skillful use of negative space. Will appreciated all of the small aspects and careful planning that must've gone into making the inner retreat truly that. He laughed softly as he settled onto the edge of the bed, a gentle smile appearing.

"I'm fine in just my shirt and boxers, thank you. I don't entirely enjoy sleeping nude, mostly because I'm afraid of what I'll wake up doing." The sleepwalking had increased with alarming frequency, though over the past week or so, since he'd begun losing himself in time, it seemed to have abated slightly.

Hannibal nodded to him and the bed, indicating that Will should make himself comfortable, “I can see the logic in that...”

He turned away from him slightly, smiling, “Though I sleep nude.”

Will stood from the bed with a small laugh, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"It doesn't bother me," he said quietly, shrugging off the old plaid thing and laying it with his trousers on a chair next to the bed, standing in just his boxers and white undershirt. "Don't you get cold?" He climbed back up onto the bed and sat on the edge of it, watching the doctor interestedly.

“No...the blankets are comfortable, the bed is soft,” Hannibal said as he pulled off his rumpled vest and unfastened his shirt cuffs, “You would probably like it, if you didn’t have concerns about public indecency.”

He gave the younger man a little smile, completely unselfconscious as he disrobed before him. He was still rather hard and he knew that he would be exposing himself momentarily, but he had little to be insecure about; he knew that he was reasonably lean and fit for a man his age, and he knew that Will wanted him.

Will laughed quietly before shifting to recline more on the pillows. "Somehow I don't think your neighbors would like me standing naked on the lawn," he chuckled, deciding to forego the undershirt, tossing it to land on the rest of his clothes.

"Should I turn my back to keep your modesty, or are you just trying to tease me?" The light and sleepy tone belied any seriousness about the words, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Your choice,” Hannibal replied, smiling slightly. Meeting Will’s eyes, he pulled off his shirt, exposing a long, slim chest and smooth tummy. Without any shyness to speak of despite remaining half-hard, he removed his belt, then his trousers to stand completely nude before his guest.

Will wasn’t sure if the display was just part of the doctor's evening, or whether it was decidedly special for him, and he wasn't entirely sure what could be considered polite in this situation. A brief moment of unashamed eye contact was all he allowed himself, sweeping his eyes down and away to let the older man finish with his nighttime tasks.

"You're very fit," he said awkwardly.

“Thank you,” the doctor replied. He leaned forward and rested his hands lightly on the tops of Will’s thighs, then bent down to his altitude to press a lingering kiss to his mouth. The contact with hands on his thighs felt almost entirely intimate to Will, leaning that close in, and the kiss was sweet with the edge of something more desired.

Hannibal didn’t stay close for too long; within a moment he was sliding under the covers on the opposite side of the bed. He glanced over at Will, commenting, “The bed is very large; if you want, you can even imagine you’re by yourself...”

He laughed softly, then turned on his side to face him with his head propped up on one elbow. He was very natural, very comfortable as he watched Will, “Though you’re welcome to sleep close... and if you have a bad dream, I invite you to wake me.”

Will’s body was still feverish, the faintest sheen of sweat along his rumpled curls, but he crawled under the blankets anyway, hoping that perhaps it would help to break the fever. He shifted, looking over towards the doctor with an open expression on his face.

"If I- If I do anything in my sleep, I'm just going to go ahead and apologize. I'm not very good at sleeping." Though he remained perpetually exhausted, particularly with the fever, it never was enough to help keep him in a steady sleep state.

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully, reaching across the broad pillows to touch Will's wrist lightly, just for a moment. He nodded in his understanding way, "Maybe tonight will be different."

Will nodded softly before shifting closer on the bed, unperturbed now by the lack of clothes between them, particularly on his bedmate. "I can hope it will be."

The older man nodded, commenting, "Wake me if you have any needs that I can assist."

He settled easily into the soft mattress, already knowing the spaces that were best, where the mattress best conformed to his lithe body. He looked across the span of duvet between them, then thoughtfully caressed Will's upper arm. He shifted slightly closer and slid his fingers up to the nape of his companion's neck, which he rubbed lightly at first. Knowledge of anatomy gave him insight into trigger points,and he subtly released some of the tension in his neck, head, and shoulders through gentle manipulation of the long muscles.

Will nodded at the statement, shifting around to get more comfortable, the light touches to his skin relaxing him as well as the skillful prodding of his neck and shoulders. A quiet 'mmm' worked free from his throat as he relaxed, letting his eyes dip closed, before blinking them back open. The cycle repeated, Will nodding off under the careful presses against his muscles before he drifted off completely, the exhaustion from the fever as well as the physical release settling and sating his mind.

Hannibal drew his hand back and leaned up to turn off the light. His eyes rapidly adjusted to the low light in the room, and he studied the curve of the younger man's cheek in the soft, blue-toned light from the window.

He reached over and took a tissue from the box on the bedside table, then turned on his side to watch the smooth, untroubled rise and fall of Will's chest. Without any hesitation, he reached down to grasp with own flagging arousal, which he slowly stroked back to a full, impressive erection that filled his palm.

It was enjoyable to lie beside his sleeping colleague, replaying the sounds of his pleasured breathing and reliving the sensations of his fevered body against his own. He enjoyed the possibility of being caught, of Will waking to hear his slightly quickened breath and the barely audible shift of the bed and the slide of his hand over his cock. He watched the profiler's mouth in the dark, imagining his soft lips around him and his eyes widening, watering slightly, as he pressed his prick to the back of his throat to gag him.

It was pleasurable knowing that he could have had those things that night, but he had said no to the lovely, half-begging man. Will wanted him and he had enjoyed denying him, especially when he could watch him now, defile him in his thoughts, and come in the dark beside him without his ever knowing: 

When he took Will Graham, he would be thorough. He would have him for hours; he would make him his own over and over. As he thought of the dark-haired empath writhing beneath him, his ribs arching up against him as he rode him into the mattress, Hannibal came into his hand with a barely audible sound of release.

Satisfied, and rather pleased by the arrangement, the doctor quietly cleaned up the small mess and settled to sleep, his eyes still on Will's profile in the darkness.

\--

Will slept. That is to say, he slept without the interruption of night terrors and thoughts of those with whom he'd empathized before entering into his dreaming consciousness. Restful sleep, for the first time in well over a year. That's what being completely taken care of had done for him. Morning came quickly with a sleepy yawn and a roll over into pillows that were not his own, in a bed far more luxurious than his own.

Yes, he had actually spent the evening and night with his colleague and friend. Had begged him to take him and make him his own. Red faced, Will slid from the bed, the smells of breakfast foods infiltrating the dark boudoir, and he headed to the bathroom first, relieving himself and washing his face before wandering out to the kitchen, moving slowly with the hint of fever still tainting his body.

"Good morning," he said sleepily, settling into a chair at the bar.

Hannibal, in loose sleep trousers and a soft robe, was carefully slicing fresh fruit into a larger bowl. Because he was who he was, they were not just banal little geometric slices. The musk melon and cantaloupe were neatly balled, the watermelon was cut into tidy triangles, the grapes were bisected, the strawberries were cut into spears, and the pineapple was cut with a small press into little stars.

He glanced over at Will and have him a smile in greeting, "Good morning, Will... You slept late, but I was still not quick enough this morning to bring you breakfast in bed.."

He picked up a pot of coffee, brewed from beans that he had roasted and ground himself, and poured a mug for his guest. He crossed the space between them and set the mug on the counter in front of Will.

After resting his hand on his brow briefly to check his temperature, he leaned in to kiss his temple as a restatement that the previous night had been real.

Will flushed slightly at the affectionate kiss, leaning into it subconsciously.

"You didn't have to trouble yourself on my account," he said, picking up the coffee to inhale the rich scent of it. "But thank you."

The previous evening had meant something to him, and though he couldn't exactly detail what it was, he still felt the need to be extremely polite, only if as a way to show his thanks.

Hannibal wasn't the sort to cuddle or stay close; he tended to express his fondness in a smaller ways, many of which would not be interpreted as affectionate. However, he knew that Will needed to operate on textbook displays of affection, or else he wouldn't recognize them; autism was such a curious condition.

"It's no trouble... It's so rare that I have a guest for breakfast."

He didn't linger beside him, but was soon dishing up a small bowl of fruit for him, then retrieving small, tart-sized quiches from the oven where they had been staying warm. He placed it before Will as well, commenting, "A savory breakfast quiche of egg, feta, ham, and spinach."

Will ducked his head gratefully, picking up the mug again to drink from it. The aroma matched the taste of it well, and he smiled at the bowl of fruit and the quiches. "They look wonderful," he said quietly, eating a few bites of fruit before he started on the quiche. "And taste wonderful as well. You really are a fantastic cook, Hannibal."

The switch from surname to forename made him realign where the doctor sat in his list of people in his mind. No one had actually shown him this sort of kindness before, not without wanting something in return with it, and it made Will feel like he could trust him more. “I feel like I should say thank you for last night.”

“It was my pleasure, quite literally,” the doctor said with a charming smile as he took a seat beside him at the bar with his own cup of coffee, “I can only hope for another opportunity.”

Will brushed a hand through his mess of curls before chuckling lightly. “If that’s your way of inviting me to dinner and breakfast again, then the answer is yes.”

"And if that is your way of accepting an invitation to my living room floor and my bed, then consider yourself invited," he said with a small, surprisingly flirtatious smile before he picked up his fork and delicately broke the pastry crust of his quiche.

Will flushed only slightly before drinking more of the coffee, and then taking a fork to his quiche. “This is me accepting your invitation,” he chuckled, eating a bit of the inside of the pastry. “This is really delicious. I can’t cook to save my life.”

"With a bit of practice I'm certain you could cook," Hannibal assured him, liking the smile that accompanied that quiet, slightly awkward laugh, "It just doesn't interest you. For my part, I don't think I could have the passion that you do for fishing."

“I think I honestly only enjoy the fishing so much because it lets me be by myself.” Will shrugged lightly, poking at the fruit in the bowl before spearing a piece. “I don’t have to worry about getting lost in someone’s head and not being able to find my way back.”

He took a bite of his breakfast and a sip of his coffee, then asked, "How do you feel this morning?"

Gently, Will lifted the fruit to his mouth, wiping away the trace of juice from the corner of his mouth as he ate it thoughtfully. “Still tired. Like my body is dragging. I didn’t bother you last night, did I?” He sucked away the juice from his thumb before retreating to the bowl of fruit once more.

The older man shook his head, watching the movements of his hands interestedly, "No... you were a perfect bedmate."

There was a little bit of a private amusement in his voice as he thought of his own nocturnal activities with regard to Will. He ate a piece of pineapple and added, "You fell asleep quickly and from what I can tell, slept solidly and barely moved until I got up."

Will chuckled lightly, his shoulders moving gently with the soft noise. “Apparently good food, an orgasm, some wine and a bed partner is the trick to getting a good night's sleep.” He was amused himself at the thought that if only he could’ve discovered this solution earlier, it might’ve saved him from hours of sleepwalking. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”

"You're welcome. It wasn't without enjoyment for me; you're arousing when you're impassioned, Will... stunning when you come," Hannibal replied without any shyness, meeting his eyes with a playful smile.

Will gave a nervous chuckle, keeping the eye contact brief before looking down at his bowl of fruit again, as if suddenly fascinated by its contents. “Is it rude of me to say that I’m glad you enjoyed yourself as I did?” He cut his eyes back up with another almost nervous chuckle, letting it linger for the moment.

"Not at all," the psychiatrist replied, "You are the sort who needs for the pleasure to be mutual. It's very endearing."

The profiler smiled again before letting his eyes return to his breakfast again, finishing off the coffee before attacking the fruit again, wiping away the drips of juice with his fingertips and his tongue.

The doctor found it pleasantly distracting to watch to darting movements of his colleague's pink tongue. He observed him subtly for a moment like before leaning closer and kissing him lightly on the mouth to taste the sweetness. He flicked his tongue deftly against Will's lower lip, suppressing a pleasant momentary image of dragging the vibrant red flesh of a strawberry down his prick and licking off the trail of juice. He liked the taste of him and the feel of him.

Will flushed with the soft kiss, murmuring a small happy noise with it and the tease of tongue against his lip. With an almost shy smile, he lifted the fork to the doctor's mouth, wanting to chase the sweetness of the fruit with his unique taste.

Hannibal accepted the piece of fruit, sliding it from the tines of of his fork delicately with his teeth. He swallowed, then leaned in to kiss his guest again. This time it was a more insistent, more sensual. He pressed closer to the younger man, half-considering climbing into his lap just to see what he'd do.

Almost hesitantly, Will sat down the fork before lifting his hand back up, resting a gentle thumb on the ridge of Hannibal's cheekbone, following the flow of the kiss. It was almost more intimate, the taste of fruit mingling between their mouths with the exchange.

The older man contact was possessive beneath the intimacy; his hand came to rest lightly on Will's leg as he kissed him. He could feel his long though muscles beneath his hand and he felt the stirrings of lust once again. He kept that in firm control, though his thoughts were filled with all sorts of images of Will's submission to him.

He pulled back finally and murmured, "You taste sweet."

Will edged closer in his seat, turning just a fragment more so that he could have more contact against his body. “So do you,” he replied, not yet leaning back out of kissing range, a smile against his reddened lips, both from the fruit and from the press of the kisses against them. “I hope- hope that wasn’t too forward of me.” His eyes dropped instinctively, looking away in case there was discontent or displeasure on his companion’s face. He didn’t want to see the negative emotions, if they happened to be there.

Hannibal shook his head with one of his subtle smiles, “Not at all. Thank you for it.”

He leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth, then sat back again more comfortably. He watched the younger man consideringly, calculating in a strangely mathematical way the extent to which he had taken control of him. He knew already that simply touching him and taking him to his bed the previous night had changed Will and had promoted his status in the autistic man's careful ordering. The full night's sleep had also gone a long way toward associating the good doctor with rest and safety, and preparing his breakfast and presenting it to him with kisses and a soft voice had reinforced the reality of their previous night's indiscretion. All in all, the seduction of Will Graham was going remarkably well.

"You should eat," Hannibal said mildly, "I'm sure you have a full day ahead of you."

Will nodded before picking up his fork with intent, eating almost delicate bites of the fruit. He had a lecture in the afternoon, but unsurprisingly the rest of his evening seemed characteristically bare, beyond being called to a crime scene. "I can only hope of having the patience and skill to prepare a meal like you always do one day," he said with a quiet chuckle, admiring the small quiche before starting to eat it.


End file.
